


With Bells On

by MercurySkies



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Die Hard References, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, General calamity and tomfoolery, M/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shyan Secret Santa 2019, Shyan Writing Events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:33:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurySkies/pseuds/MercurySkies
Summary: Shane likes Christmas well enough. He likes the warm, spicy, alcoholic beverages, the tomfoolery of office parties, the time spent with loved ones. He likes it well enough, but as the first of the month rolls around the sense of dread, of anxiety, starts to simmer in the back of his mind, in the bottom of his stomach. There’s nothing pleasant about the flu, about the social demands of countless Yuletide get-togethers, the hyper vigilance required to avoid meeting Ryan under the mistletoe.Written for Shyan Secret Santa 2019 for the wonderfulSkelly
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 14
Kudos: 143
Collections: Shyan Secret Santa 2019





	1. December 1st

**Author's Note:**

> For my Shyan Secret Santa 2019 Skelly! I hope you like it and I hope you also had a swell time this Christmas as part of the Secret Santa! This is my second year participating and it seems I always make some kind of mistake (I was yelling in the discord about the one message I sent off anon because I’m an idiot and had a head cold), but we made it! Merry Christmas and a very jolly holiday season to you and yours!

Shane likes Christmas well enough. He likes the warm, spicy, alcoholic beverages, the tomfoolery of office parties, the time spent with loved ones. He likes it well enough, but as the first of the month rolls around the sense of dread, of anxiety, starts to simmer in the back of his mind, in the bottom of his stomach. There’s nothing pleasant about the flu, about the social demands of countless Yuletide get-togethers, the hyper vigilance required to avoid meeting Ryan under the mistletoe.

Christmas cheer has long since gripped the nation as it seems to earlier and earlier each year. A video of a dozen dudes paddle boarding dressed as Santa is already making the rounds on Twitter and Shane just isn’t feeling it. His humbug attitude is a foreboding premonition of what the holiday season has in store for him. He won’t make it to the 25th if he can’t find something to be jolly about.

Still ‘tis the season for content consumption, free time to ‘flix and chill, and Shane has a living to make. The lack of a chill when he crawls out of bed in the morning does set the rare pangs of homesickness coursing through him. Over half the world doesn’t experience a white Christmas but a holiday season without the bitter cold still feels a little wrong to him.

One of the small delights of this time of year is the seasonal drinks. He’d hate to ruin his one black coffee reputation but he is a sucker for a gingerbread latte. He indulges and tries to ignore the barstardisations of Christmas classics that pour through the speakers of the closest Starbucks. He makes it into work just in time.

In his rush he kicks off the festive season in just the way he’d anticipated. Mere feet from his desk he trips, fumbling with his bag as he desperately tries to stay upright and protect his laptop. Thankfully, the latte is the only casualty, that and a layer of skin and his left nipple as the hot drink seeps through his shirt.

“Oh shit dude!” Ryan gasps, looking up from his chair, eyes wide and headphones askew.

“My nipple.” Is all Shane manages to choke out.

“Your nip-” Ryan starts before devolving into breathless laughter. He sobers slightly when Shane winces, gingerly pulling the wet fabric away from his skin.

"Do you need me to like- like check?"

"Check my nipple?" Shane says confused, the back of his neck flaring with heat. He quickly shrugs off his bag and ducks down to rummage in a desk drawer for a spare shirt.

"No - yes well - I mean check you out- OVER, check you _over_ , check you haven't done any real damage." The thought of Ryan seeing his likely lobster red ironing board of a torso in any state of undress makes him want to walk into the sea. States of undress naturally lead to the kind of thoughts Shane cannot be having about Ryan and especially not with a stinging left nipple. He shifts, attempting to quell the bizarest half chub.

"Nah it's fine, I'm just gonna-" his fingers finally brush across the fabric of a well-worn flannel shirt and he grabs it with a sigh of relief, "just gonna take this shirt, myself and my nipples to the bathroom for a hot sec." He says jokingly, voice pitching up half an octave in barely concealed panic.

"Make sure it's not too hot of a sec, that's how you got into this mess in the first place." Ryan laughs, seeming satisfied that Shane hasn't skinned himself alive. He turns back toward his monitor, adjusting his headphones. Shane scurries toward the closest bathroom mourning the loss of his latte, his dignity and his nipple.


	2. December 3rd

The decorations around the office start to go up and despite ladders being readily available it seems that the multitude of hideously tacky garlands hanging from the ceilings haven't been hung with people of his stature in mind. He almost garrotes himself 3 times in the first hour before he resigns himself to staying seated for as much of the remaining month as humanly possible. It'd be fine if there wasn't also the added risk of ripping them down. Personal injury aside, he doesn't want to ruin anyone's hard work, wasting the time they spent to make the office a jollier place for them all.

The plus side is the joy he gets from watching others blessed with height duck and dive beneath garlands and lights, boughs of holly and stretches of tinsel. He watches as Keith accidentally tears a swathe of gold tinsel from a door frame. He doesn’t let it faze him, like Shane he’s much too used to it, wearing it as a festive and fairly itchy scarf.

Around noon, Shane is slapped in the face with a sprig of mistletoe as he makes his way from the break room. It hits the floor with a dull thunk, a few stray leaves plopping sadly into his coffee. He stares at it, at his coffee and sighs.

“What did the mistletoe ever do to you?” Ryan chimes with a laugh, slipping past him in the doorway, so close he catches a whiff of his cologne.

“I’m pretty sure hanging it in the workplace is a HR violation.” Shane grumbles, following him back into the break room. Ryan frowns at him.

“Okay, Scrooge, are you okay man? You’re usually the first to jingle their bells this time of year.” Shane simply shrugs.

“It’s off to a rocky start but I’m sure I’ll get into the spirit soon. It’s just nothing like Schaumburg ya know?” Ryan nods, but he’s used to Californian Christmases, doesn’t miss the cold and dark winter mornings.

“Speaking of - dude when are you heading back to Illinois?”

“Oh probably sometime in the New Year.” Ryan seemingly chokes on his coffee, the mug hits the counter top with a clatter. Shane rolls his eyes, everything about Ryan is big, even his disbelief. Well, except for his height..

“What? You’re not going home for Christmas?” He asks, the beginnings of pity inching their way into his plaintive voice.

“Nah. I already went for Thanksgiving and we’re all busy people you know?”

“Come to mine for Christmas.” Shane barks out a laugh.

“I think your family might have something to say about that.”

“Yeah,  _ yes _ .” Ryan rolls his eyes. “My mom already loves you, you know that.”

Shane does know that. Ryan’s family is a vibrant smorgasbord of personalities. One thing they all have in common, is how incredibly kind they are, and the thought of spending Christmas with Ryan and his family has him feeling both warm with fondness and cold with dread. He has no doubt that spending Christmas with the Bergara’s would be wonderful but that’s exactly what he’s afraid of. It feels like it’s crossing a line, and maybe Shane is being stupid, but it feels like something couples do. In true ‘middle schooler with a crush’ fashion, Shane doesn’t want to think about Ryan and Shane and things couples do.

“Of course she loves me, I’m a lovable scamp and I tell her she has a wonderful home.”

“You bully me and compliment her cooking, that’s why she loves you.” Ryan laughs, eyes bright and Shane breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t press the issue.

“What can I say? I know the way to a Bergara’s heart!” Shane crows and immediately tamps down the urge to slap himself. Ryan shakes his head and pats him on the shoulder.

“You sure do big guy. You sure do.”


	3. December 7th

“Well one of us is going to have to change.” Shane drawls as he rounds their small cluster of desks at the back of the bullpen. The employees of the 'Feed are all sporting their most hideously festive sweaters and as per usual Ryan didn’t consult with Shane on his wardrobe choice for this most auspicious occasion.

“You should be wearing yours backwards.” Ryan snorts, sporting his own naughty or nice sweater with the word ‘nice’ stretched across his chest.

“I can be your angle or your devil baby!”

“Sew those two together and you’ve got yourself a festive viral video.” Curly chirps, from his perch on Ryan’s desk, sporting a sweater that literally reads ‘jingle your balls’. “You’d both do well to turn those sweaters around, you’re both naughty, at least in my dreams you are.” He adds, sighing wistfully. Shane pulls off his sweater to a chorus of whistles, the label that should be at his nape scratching at his Adam's apple. Curly gasps.

“A dream come true!”

“Alright I’ll change.” Ryan mutters into the surface of his desk, face a lovely shade of red.


	4. December 11th

It doesn't take long for Shane to realise Ryan is on some kind of quest to bring him Christmas cheer. Ryan shepherds him into his car and drives them to Target, insisting they buy more ornaments for the tree Shane is yet to drag out of his hallway closet and assemble, pride of place, in his living room. Shane already has a box of ornaments, both bought and inherited, sitting gathering dust on a shelf in the very same hallway closet.

As their basket steadily fills, it becomes clear that Shane's tree is going to be the weirdest looking tree ever. Ornaments range from foodstuffs to glitter covered monstrosities. Like a magpie, anything shiny appeals to Ryan and Shane allows his every choice, unable to say no to Ryan's sunshine smile and wide, dark eyes.

Snacks and beer also find their way into the basket but that's on Shane. Ryan drives them to Shane's apartment, blasting Christmas songs and Shane sits somewhat frozen in the passenger seat grinning from ear to ear and heart pounding. He feels sweaty and sniffly, the beginnings of a cold but also what Shane has referred to as the love sweats since middle school, when you sit incapacitated by affection and fear. He's having fun but he's worried about it, the crush he's harbouring, like a secret that'll grow three sizes with every Christmas tradition they check off of Ryan's list.

They clamber through his front door, arms laden with bags, startling Obi from his perch by the window. Ryan heads straight for the closet and Shane doesn't even remember telling him where the tree is kept. He deposits it in the living room before returning for the box of ornaments. Shane watches from the kitchen as he struggles to reach it, gaze lingering on the sliver of smooth skin exposed at the small of his back where his hoodie has ridden up. Ryan lets out a small grunt of triumph as he rocks back on his heels and Shane snaps his eyes back to watch as Ryan rummages through the box, almost tripping over Obi as he makes his way distractedly back toward the lounge. Shane brings in the beer, laughing loudly as Ryan attempts to unfurl the tree.

"It's as big as you." Shane snorts as Ryan struggles to snap each layer of needled branches into place. Ryan huffs and puffs, struggles to manoeuvre around the wider bottom half of the tree to affix the top and pull out the branches.

"Why did you get one so huge?" Ryan gripes.

"It's an investment. It's a fake tree so it'll last a long time. I can take it with me if I move and if I ever buy a house it's still good to fill a bigger space."

"That... Makes a lot of sense." Ryan muses as Shane takes the top of the tree from him and affixes it to the base with relative ease. Shane smiles.

"See, I'm not just a pretty face!" He winks and reaches for the cable. "And! It's pre-lit!" He crows. He plugs in the tree and everything goes dark.

"You've gotta be shitting me." Shane growls. He winces as a bright white light almost blinds him, the culprit Ryan, clutching his phone.

“Your Christmas tree just shorted the whole building.”

“We don’t know if it's the whole building.” Shane pouts fishing his own phone out of his pocket. He turns on the torch light and pokes his head out of the front door. He shamefully meets the eyes of his confused neighbours.

“Don’t worry!” A woman down the hall calls, so Shane takes that to mean the situation is in hand.

“My tree shorted the whole building.” Shane laughs as he closes the door behind him and Ryan’s face shines with laughter in the low light.

“What do we do now?” Ryan asks and Shane can’t bare to disappoint him so he searches for every candle and battery powered light source he can find from string lights to torches. Within 20 minutes the lounge is bathed in the warm glow of candles and lights, Christmas music pouring out of Ryan’s phone as Shane’s lays face down, it’s torch acting as an uplight. 

The tree is decorated in no time and Shane steadies Ryan, hands on his waist as he reaches up on tiptoes to place the star on top of the tree. Ryan leans against him as they survey the tree. It looks like a bomb has gone off on it, tinsel and glitter baubles placed haphazardly like they’ve been fired at it by a tennis ball launcher.

“It’s hideous.” Shane laughs and Ryan grins at him like it’s the greatest compliment he’s ever received.

“Yeah it is.” He snorts and reaches for a beer.

They spend the rest of the evening just talking, sat on the floor with their backs against the couch, talking until the lights come back on.


	5. December 12th

The Christmas tree lasts maybe 20 minutes. It’s not entirely destroyed no, but the first night it’s up in the apartment Shane stumbles his way to the kitchen for a glass of water following a trail of discarded Christmas ornaments. Obi knows no distinction between the toys specifically bought for him and the shiny things dangling tantalisingly from the tree.

Shane tip toes into his lounge, looking for the elusive cat and almost shits himself as a streak of orange fur shoots past him, trailing tinsel in his wake. Shane chases after him. It’s only a matter of time before his son eats it and it’s off to the emergency vet they go, Obi barfing up glitzy plastic in a cat carrier in the back seat as Shane floors it in his dressing gown.


	6. December 15th

Shane realises he has absolutely no idea what to get the vast majority of his family and friends. It’s not that he doesn’t know them well, but Shane is always torn between getting them something he knows they’ll like and getting them something different, risking it for the ‘wow’ factor. Amazon has been his best friend and despite being loathe to give Bezos any more of his hard earned cash it’s his only option for the majority of people he’s in search of gifts for.

Ryan’s gift is already planned and has been since the start of November. It will take time to put together but Shane is quietly confident. When Ryan suggests they take a look at the pop-up Christmas market that weekend Shane readily agrees, it’s the perfect opportunity to grab some gifts for those family members that are just impossible to buy gifts for.

It is rather predictably, heaving with people, all milling around and jostling each other as they try to get a look at hand crafted tree ornaments. Shane tries his best to stick close to Ryan but the little guy is slippery, darting between stall after a stall at a speed Shane can only dream of considering the throng of people they’re forced to frog-march through. One minute he’s watching from above the crowd as Ryan sniffs at handmade candles, pausing between each one to decide what his facial expression is going to do, morph into a wrinkled nose of disgust or the raised eyebrows of pleasant surprise. The next minute he’s gone.

He scans the crowd but doesn’t spot him anywhere.

“Ry! Ry! I’ve lost you bud, where are you?” He calls into his phone when he hears Ryan pick up but it’s hard to hear him over the sound of Christmas music, excited chatter and children screaming. He hangs up, trying to be heard over the din a futile endeavour. They try texting next but neither of them know the layout of the market well enough to be able to pinpoint a location and all the possible landmarks look the same.

After half an hour Shane spots the small cabin that serves as a first aid station. He battles his way through the throng intending to ask if there’s some kind of meeting point that Ryan might have gone to but he spots a sign and gets an idea.

“Ladies and gentlemen we have a lost child announcement. Will Ryan Bergara please make his way to the first aid cabin to be reunited with his family.” The attendant to her credit is taking it all very seriously, it takes all of Shane’s willpower not to crack.

It’s 20 minutes before Ryan finally shows up, unimpressed and arms laden with bags. Shane grins.

“This is your son?” The attendant asks and she’s smiling exasperatedly like this isn’t the first time someone’s made a lost child announcement to find a friend.

“No. But he’s child sized!” Shane chirps.

“I hate you.” Ryan mumbles but he’s fighting a smile and Shane’s heart lurches in his chest when he tugs him back into the throng, linking their arms as they stroll back through the crowd.


	7. December 18th

By the time Shane makes it to the bar for the annual Christmas extravaganza half the company is already drunk. He side steps around friends and colleagues and heads straight for the bar, determined to catch up, ‘tis the season after all. Everything is decorated beautifully, golden garlands shining in the low light. It’s modern and elegant and Shane feels slightly under dressed in his simple button down and jeans. He spots Ryan at the bar, haloed by the down-lights, glowing with mirth as he tips his head back, the pompom on his Santa hat swaying merrily. He catches Shane’s eye and grins.

“Shane!” He calls, beckoning him over, loud and bright and Shane couldn’t deny him even if he tried. He grabs the fruity monstrosity he ordered from the bar and makes his way over.

They orbit each other the entire night, side by side as they watch the chaos unfold, drinking more with every Christmas calamity that befalls their fellow revellers. Despite it all, he’s still aware of how close they are, Ryan’s hand on his knee, Shane’s arm around his shoulders, but as the alcohol continues to flow he forgets to care, allows himself this one Christmas present.

“Uh oh!” Shane crows as he finds himself caught in a doorway festooned with with mistletoe. His vision swims slightly and he leans against the door jam for balance, looking down just as Ryan peers up at him from beneath his lashes. “Know what this means Ry-guy!” He says, sucking in a breath as Ryan leans against him, hands at his waist.

“Is this-?” He mumbles and sways into Shane’s space, thigh wedged between his legs. Ryan smells like his cologne and beer and sweat and there are distant alarm bells ringing in the back of Shane’s mind but he’s leaning down. The first kiss is tentative, off-centre but then Ryan pushes up on his tip-toes making Shane gasp, mouth parting to pant in between kisses.  Shane’s hands scramble beneath Ryan’s shirt, clinging to the small of his back. Ryan whines, a sound that seems to echo in Shane’s ears. He can feel Ryan's hard cock pressed hot and aching against his navel and he arches, wanting to hear that sound again, searching for some kind of relief.

Eventually Ryan drops back to the floor, rocking on the balls of his feet unsteadily. He rests his forehead against Shane’s, and Shane watches his eyes blink open, dark and wide with heat and mischief.

“Merry Christmas Shane.” He laughs and Shane laughs too squeezing his waist.

“Merry Christmas Ryan.”


	8. December 21st

It’s fine. No, really it’s fine. When it comes down to it this is exactly how Shane saw himself spending his Christmas, drunk on store bought eggnog, crying his way through Love Actually. He can’t be held responsible for what he does in the lonely run up to Christmas, especially when he’s made a fool of himself in front of his best friend and long time object of affection.

The rational part of him knows it’ll be fine in the long run. He’ll apologise, they’ll laugh about it, suffer a month or two of awkwardness before they inevitably carry on as they always do. Shane will get over it. If Shane didn’t possess the ability to get over it, he wouldn’t have made it into his thirties the reasonably well adjusted adult he is today.

Crying at a Christmas classic alone in your apartment in your underwear doesn’t scream ‘well-adjusted’ but everyone has their own normal and this may as well be Shane’s. He doesn’t even like this movie, he’s a A Muppet’s Christmas Carol guy. But Hugh Grant is talking and Shane is crying. He has never been more thankful that he can afford to live alone, so glad that there is no one here to see him like this. Not even Obi bears witness, having long since gone to sleep, tired of his owner’s antics.

He watches as Jaimie butchers his way through a speech in Portuguese to propose to Aurélia and his chest aches. He hates this, it’s contrived and cliche and saccharine but God does he want it. He wants it to be easy, he doesn’t want to struggle like the other couples, he wants to pour his heart out for once and he wants Ryan to say yes.

But Shane is no Colin Firth, not a grand gesture guy and this is real life, where they have jobs, and lives that can’t be put on hold for some spur of the moment bilingual declaration. It all doesn’t change the fact that Shane wants it, and as the credits roll he drunkenly starts to dream of wedding vows in broken Spanish.


	9. December 24th

It’s the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature is stirring, apart from Shane, who’s pressed the emergency call button of his apartment’s elevator 7 times and counting. It’s just his luck, that after a day traipsing around the city he returns home to get stuck halfway between the foyer and his floor in a tin can of an elevator. On the 9th press of the call button a voice finally answers, incredibly apologetic as they assure him an engineer is on their way to get him out but considering what day it is it might be some time.

He slides himself down the mirrored walls to settle on the floor, the last additions to Ryan’s present sitting mockingly in their bags next to him. He’ll give it to him sometime in the new year, for now it’ll sit alone under his own tree.

This is his worst Christmas to date and all things considered it could be worse. He has a warm home, a loving family, great friends and Ryan. He just about has Ryan. His phone sits as heavy as a brick in the pocket of his jeans. He pulls it out with shaking fingertips, squeezes it until his palms are sweaty and he’s been clutching it in both hands for over an hour. He opens it to Ryan’s contact for another.

“Hey, Shane.” Ryan says, voice strangely soft and it makes Shane’s chest ache, suddenly feeling tight as he shudders out a breath.

“Hey Ry.” He says and doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t know how to even broach the subject, to explain the overwhelming sense of home whenever Ryan is near him, how their bickering sparks a fire in him, a perfect crackling flame. He doesn’t know how to say any of it without sounding insincere, or like he’s walked out of a John Hughes movie.

“What’s up big guy?” Ryan asks, accompanied by quiet rustling like he’s settling down for the night.

“I’m stuck in an elevator.”

“What?”

“I am legitimately stuck in an elevator. On Christmas Eve.” Shane snorts and then they’re laughing, hysterical hiccups and gasps for breath, ugly chortling at the absurdity of it all, the audacity of the universe to bestow upon them this Christmastime cliche.

“Your life this past month has become such a rom-com.” Ryan says breathless, once the laughter subsides, leaving Shane’s sides aching and his heart lighter.

“With emphasis on the com. The rom part isn’t going so well.” Ryan is silent for a while before his voice sounds clear but uncertain over the line.

“It isn’t?” He asks, in a small voice, a word Shane has never associated with him for anything but his height. Shane hesitates, stares at his reflection in the mirrored elevator wall, his face washed pallid by the harsh fluorescent lights.

“I’m into you.” He says dazedly, he catches his own gaze, eyes wide as dinner plates in his reflection as his heart starts to pound and Ryan starts to laugh.

“Okay ouch.” He says, but he’s smiling because he knows Ryan is.

“No oh my God no just-” Ryan gasps “that’s it just ‘I’m into you’?” He adds in a rude approximation of Shane’s voice.

“What did you want a sonnet? Want me to throw a brick through your window, with a boombox on my shoulder and wake up half your complex?”

“I don’t know what I expected.” Ryan laughs “It’s you.”

“It’s me!” Shane crows. “Disappointed? Horrified?”

“Surprised?”

“Surprised? Grinding on you at the Christmas party wasn’t enough of a clue?”

“No, y’know,” Ryan clears his throat, “those things happen at Christmas parties, alcohol, mistletoe...”

“Colleagues with inconvenient crushes.” Shane adds.

“Not inconvenient...” Ryan starts but a voice chimes from the intercom, interrupting him.

“Mister Madej?”

“Please, Mister Madej is his father!” Ryan shouts into the receiver.

“The engineers have just arrived, we’ll have you home for Christmas!” The operator says cheerily.

They’re wrong however as it’s another two hours before the elevator shudders to life, starting a slow descent to the floor below. Ryan stays with him, having talked him down from Bruce Willis-ing his way out the top hatch at least a dozen times since their call started. He clambers free of the tin death machine at 2.23AM on Christmas morning, gulping down the somewhat fresh air, a welcome relief from the warm stale air inside the elevator. He thanks the engineer profusely and sends them home with a cheery ‘happy holidays!’.

“Alright Ry,” he starts, making his way up the stairs to his floor, “I’ll let you go, thanks for sticking with me through my Christmas caper.”

“No problem.” Ryan replies, a smile in his voice. It sounds strange, like there’s feedback on the line. Shane frowns and rounds the corner onto his floor.

“Ryan? When? How’d you get here?” Shane asks, sweaty and exhausted and reeling. He hangs up and he watches Ryan do the same, grinning from ear to ear. He walks toward him hesitantly, palms sweating around the handles of the plastic bags in his grasp.

“Unlike you big guy, I took the stairs.” Ryan tugs him down by the bottom of his sweater and kisses him, hard and persistent, like he has something to prove. “Merry Christmas Shane.” He mumbles against Shane’s mouth and Shane let’s his bags of shopping fall to the floor outside his apartment door, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s waist and kissing him within an inch of his life.


	10. December 25th

Shane wakes up early on Christmas morning and feels the excitement he’s been missing all December long. Muted by the warm comfort of his bed, the easy content that puts a smile on his face as he turns over to see Ryan’s sleeping form, hair strewn over Shane’s pillows, face buried so deeply into it it’s a wonder he hasn’t suffocated himself.

He dozes and the next time he wakes the sun is a little higher in the sky and Ryan’s arm is a warm weight across his belly.

“Merry Christmas big guy.” Ryan mumbles, voice sleep deep as he looks up at Shane with one eye open.

“Shouldn’t you be at your parents?” Shane asks, unsure and Ryan replies simply by moving in closer, body a warm line along Shane’s side.

“Nah I usually head over to theirs around 10. We’ve got time.” He closes his eye, about to drift off to sleep again until it snaps back open, this time accompanied by the other, as he stares at Shane beseechingly.

“Wait! You’re coming home with me for Christmas now right? I mean I know maybe it’s early but I wanted you to come when we were friends. And I mean we are friends but I was hoping...”

Shane is entirely not awake enough to parse half of what Ryan may or may not be saying so he just smiles, reaches up a hand to curl into the riot of hair at Ryan’s nape and tugs him in for a kiss. It’s slow and soft and Shane smiles all the while even as a waft of morning breath tickles his nostrils.

“Sure.” He mumbles, closing his eyes again. “Whatever you want Ry.”

The rest of the morning is slow, lazy, not bothering to leave each other’s side. They settle together on the floor by Shane’s cat ravaged tree and Ryan hands Shane his presents with shaking hands. The first is larger than the second and Shane starts there, unwrapping the simple brown paper with care. He laughs when the happy little popcorn kernel plush is revealed, sitting snugly in his very own personalised popcorn bowl.

“Ry...” He starts breathless but Ryan simply hands him the other present.

“I know I’m amazing. C’mon open this one.” He urges and Shane complies, tearing off the paper to reveal a sleek black box. It opens with a snap to reveal a watch. The face is adorned with roman numerals, the gold mechanism exposed under the quartz. The strap is a dark, burnished brown and Shane pulls it out gingerly. He holds it up to the light, watches as the face catches the twinkling Christmas lights and is struck dumb by its beautiful simplicity.

“Turn it over.” Ryan urges and Shane complies. Etched in the back are the words ‘Ghoulboys forever’. Shane swallows against the lump in his throat. Christmas revelations aside the heartfelt affirmation of friendship is enough to make him want to cry with its sincerity. Ryan gently takes his hand and turns it, clasping the watch snugly at the inside of his wrist. He kisses his palm and Shane swoons.

“It amazing thank you.” He says, unable to keep the fondness from his voice. “You’ve got me beat now, I’m not sure I want you to open mine.”

Ryan gasps as if the very notion is an affront. He snatches his gift out from beneath the tree and starts to unwrap it with a bizarre mixture of determination and glee, bouncing up and down in Shane’s hold. His grin is wide and blinding when the briefcase is finally uncovered, enamoured with its vintage charm, he pops it open and laughs. On top is a small card emblazoned with the words ‘Ghost hunting kit’.

He rifles through it carefully, unearthing a headlamp and high-visibility waistcoat, a utility belt complete with torch, pocket bible and a small vial of holy water. Ryan thumbs over the bible and vial, encased in embossed leather and crystal respectively. As silly as the gift is Shane can tell it has had the desired effect, especially those two gifts, items sacred because of their holy nature but also because they make Ryan feel safe.

Ryan pulls out a T-shirt with ‘Ghost hunters do it in abandoned asylums’ emblazoned across it and snorts, placing the bible and holy water carefully back in the briefcase.

“We are not doing ‘it’ in abandoned asylums!”

“Never say never.”

“I don’t wanna get tetanus Shane, we’d get dick tetanus.”

“Dick tetanus.”

“Penshurst was gross dude, God knows what you could catch.”

“I know I caught feelings.” Shane says, a smidge sofer than he intended as he hooks his chin over Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan leans back against his chest and sighs.

“I did too.” He says wrinkling his nose.

“There’s no cure.” Shane says solemnly and Ryan laughs. Shane may have just implied that this is it for him, that Ryan is ‘the one’ and if he’s honest, he doesn’t know if that’s true, has never bought into the idea of soulmates, knows that people love any number of people in infinite ways during their lives. What he does know is that he wants to stay like this for a very long time, wrapped up with Ryan.

Ryan tucks his nose into Shane’s neck, breathes deeply with his eyes closed and Shane sits still, breathing in tandem in the warm quiet of Christmas Day.


End file.
